


A Constellation in Blood

by Destiny_Apocalypse



Category: Dragon Age, Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: AU, Bad World State, Dark Solas, F/M, Slow Burn, awww yisss ghilan'nain
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-27
Updated: 2016-07-26
Packaged: 2018-05-23 12:35:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 14,728
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6116653
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Destiny_Apocalypse/pseuds/Destiny_Apocalypse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fen’Harel investigates reports of an exiled Dalish Witch living in the wild Tirashan that has interfered with his agents sent to the forgotten temple of Ghilan’nain.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

Fen’Harel was not a hard man to work under in most circumstances.

He was somber, distant, and at times, utterly terrifying. Sa’renan had never met him before he went into uthenera, and only took the occasional order from the fade before he woke up, and things got waylaid by that rampaging Tevinter magister creature. But they were reasonably certain they had never witnessed the Dread Wolf so much as smile.

But it did not matter, for the man was inspiring beyond words. Despite his countenance, Fen’Harel never placed himself above any of them, and he took the time to learn each and every individual name of all in his network, no matter how small or insignificant the role. There was a sense of solidarity between them all, in their shared duty...and they were all doing this for one ultimate purpose. 

The restoration of their People. A sentiment that Sa’renan firmly believed in.  

And yet at the moment, they could not hide the tremor in their voice as they called upon Fen’Harel in his study. They knew this moment would come after returning from the Tirashan the day before and the reality of it made it no less terrifying.

“Sa’renan,” His voice greets them from behind the door, indicating that they should enter. He sounded cool and unruffled, and they could only hope that was meant to be a good sign.

His study is finer than most rooms in their restored temple, but still of simple tastes in contrast to classic elvhen styles. Sa’renan reminds themselves to suck in a deep breath to calm their jittery nerves; this is not some noble’s throne room sitting in judgement on them. And yet it was still difficult to remind themselves not to be nervous at the sight of their written report that lay open on the desk, and intensity of Fen’Harel’s expression.

He motions for them to take a seat. Sa’renan obliges, swallowing down the lump that began to rise in their throat.

“I have some...concerns on your report on the Tirashan.”

“I understand.”

“I sent you to scout Ghilan’nain’s temple with three men. A simple mission to activate the eluvian there, and to bring back the artifact I asked for; one that I would expect to be completed quickly and efficiently by agents of your caliber.”

Sa’renan said nothing, trying to look anywhere except at the severe look on his face.  

“But by your reports, one of my men is dead, and the other is critically injured by a _halla_ attack, and you brought back nothing at all after being gone for two weeks?”

“It was a vicious halla,” Sa’renan mumbled, their face growing red. It was all rather mortifying when laid out as such.

“And Sethanin’s death?”

“There was a Dalish there. She...set traps. Sethanin attempted to pursue her but he was not successful.”

“Ah yes, Pray tell then, how some of my more experienced agents were bested by a single, wild _Dalish_ witch?”

Sa’renan opened and closed their mouth a few times, unable to meet Fen’Harel’s hard eyes.

“I...we were not expecting any opposition,” they protested after a moment. “And that wild woman, she controlled the wildlife like...like Ghilan’nain used to!”

The Dread Wolf grew silent then, contemplating. Sa’renan let out the breath they’d been holding as the silence stretched to fill the room.

“You were arrogant,” Fen’Harel says finally, his voice grave. “She may only be Dalish, but you blundered about on her land like a fool so that she had three immortal elvhen scurrying around like mice.”

“I recognize my error,” they sigh. “I would not underestimate such a woman again.”

And indeed they wouldn’t; the image of her yellow eyes glinting in the darkness as a pack of raving lizard beasts descended on them was not one they would likely forget anytime soon.

They shivered.

“It seems I must make a personal visit to Ghilan’nain’s temple to correct your error. I would ask you to join me, Sa’renan, though I will not force you if you wish not to return.”

They do not. But they would do what would be needed to the cause.

  
“Of course, Fen’Harel.”


	2. Tirashan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Solas gathers his agents to make a personal visit to the Tirashan, and find this Dalish Witch that has waylaid his plans.

It was with great regret that Solas found himself in Orlais once more.

Regretful for a great number of reasons, the first of which being that making such a personal visit to a populated location still ran a great deal of risk. Even with precautions, there was always a possibility that he would perhaps be recognized by some of the agents that were known to operate in this part of Val Firmin. No longer could he roam unnoticed in his humble apostate guise with the Spymaster Leliana on a constant lookout for him.

Furthermore, it also served to highlight the imperfections in his eluvian network. It was, unfortunately, the nearest mirror closest to his target destination, and therefore there would still be a few days travel through the Western Approach to reach the far edges of the Tirashan.

And then onwards to Ghilan’nain’s temple within. A simple matter of dealing with the woman that had been interfering with his plans there, activating the eluvian, and then figuring out what to do with the agents that had disappointed him in not carrying out this very simple task.

It should not have come to him making a personal visit.

That would come later, at the very least. For now, Inquisition forces were on the lookout for any and all suspicious elves so it would do well for him to travel a bit more inconspicuously. As distasteful a disguise as it was, it would be safer to travel the roads as a human.

The sound of the eluvian activating caught his attention, as Sa’renan stepped through the mirror to join him. Their footsteps kicked up a cloud of dust that swirled through a room that had not seen much use in many years.  

"You have arrived. Let us find our transportation and be on our way, as we have a ride of decent length ahead of us."

“Of course, Fen’Harel.”  
  
He had sent word for one of his spies to arrange to leave some means of transportation for them in the stables of the manor they now stood in. A safehouse he wrested control of from a wealthy Orlesian human that had an usual obsession with elven artifacts, and the money to hoard them. Most of them were inauthentic of course; pretty baubles passed off to fools as ancient elven relics.

But it had been a relic of particular value that drew Solas to this particular location; the eluvian that Solas had liberated when he commandeered this manor. One of the most powerful pieces of magic that existed in this world, and the fool had given it to his mistress to use as a vanity.

The blood of that Orlesian noble and his guards still stained the fine carpets and rugs that crunched under their feet, though it was nothing compared to the years of blood and pain suffered by the elven servants and slaves that served here over the course of centuries. His death and the death of others like him were of no great loss to this broken world.  
  
There would be two others joining them, but for now it was prudent for them to make their way out of the city at separate locations. Large groups brought attention, and that was precisely what Solas wanted to avoid at the current moment.

A wave of magic washed over the two of them as Solas set a glamour to obscure their appearance. Anyone that caught sight of them on their journey would simply see two non-descript human merchants of humble means. Once he was satisfied with the disguise, he motioned for Sa’renan to follow behind.

The sun was quite high in the sky when they stepped outside, and Solas had to blink a few times as his vision adjusted to the brightness of a warm summer day. The back of his eyes burned slightly, and he inwardly reminded himself that perhaps he needed to spend less time in dusty old ruins and temples.

A luxury he perhaps could not afford.  

  
The Inquisition’s spies had dogged him as his had dogged them; and while he was under the safe assumption that he was still several steps ahead of both the Spymaster and Inquisitor, he would take every precaution to ensure it remained that way. He had learned the hard way not to underestimate those that worked against him.  

Not for the first time, he wondered if he had truly owed the woman that called herself Herald a second chance during their confrontation in the Crossroads. He could have rid himself of her interference quite easily then and there, but he had hoped…well it didn’t matter what he had hoped. He should have expected no less. His largest regret regarding that woman was that the assassins he had sent had proved as of yet to be unsuccessful.  

The irony that the companions that she had alienated were now cleaving to her in their moment of need due to his antagonism towards her, was not lost on him. It brought him no great joy to be the cause of death to any living creature, particularly ones that he had moderately enjoyed the company of, but they had set themselves in direct opposition to him and his goals.

They were his enemy, no matter how they had played at friendship over their former duties in the Inquisition. He would do well to remember that.

Sa’renan fidgeted next to him; having already mounted the horse and was waiting patiently by the entrance to the stables. Solas realized his unpleasant thoughts must show clearly on his face and quickly returned to a more neutral expression. Best to not allow such thoughts to distract him at this time.

They made their way quickly out of the city without incident. None of the city’s guards paid any mind to merchants of such apparent unimportance. Another two of his agents joined them on horseback while on the road, and they made a quick pace towards the desert that separated them between their quarry.

***  

It wasn’t the most pleasant of journeys, but it was far more enjoyable with his current company that rode in silence, than the last time he was in this area in service of the Inquisition. It had been one of the few times the Inquisitor deigned to bring along the apostate scholar, and as much as he detested the company he had to admit it was a nice change from being cooped up in the stuffy rooms of Skyhold.

This time, he could enjoy the endless expanse of desert at his leisure without the incessant chatter by the archer that had the pointed ears of an elf but not the spirit, or the passive aggressive comments by the first enchanter. The slowly setting sun created a beautiful red glow across the sands, and the sight was almost enough to make one forget the sweltering heat and bits of sand that were working their way into the gaps of his armor.  
  
They halted only to allow the horses rest and to catch a few hours of sleep on the harsh sands after the sun had set. Solas was loathe to linger about, until one of the agents rode back from scouting ahead, and reported a nearby Dalish encampment.  
  
“Odd to find one in such an environment. Perhaps they know something of the woman guarding the Tirashan, however. Shavera, I would ask you to gather some information before we move on."

“By your command, Dread Wolf,” Shavera replied automatically.    
  
Approaching an unknown clan was not ideal, but perhaps necessary. While a few open minded Dalish had joined his cause, he still faced a significant barrier in many of their superstitions, and more than one clan vowed to allow the world to burn to ashes before they joined forces with the Dread Wolf.

A fate he would leave them to, if they insisted on clinging to foolish superstitions of their ancestors.

Solas only hoped Shavera’s deception as a traveling Dalish would not prove to be too suspicious, as he knew little of this particular clan’s customs. He had come across some that were xenophobic enough to attack anything on sight, pointed ears or no, and were little more than wild bandits.

However if violence broke out, Shavera would be more than equipped to handle it and they would continue on.  
  
Though he had thought the same of a wild dalish witch, hadn't he?  
  
A short wait later, and the results proved to be as wasteful as he had feared. The clan was predictably suspicious of a traveling Dalish and offered little information other than what they already knew.  
  
"They spat and called her _Asha'banal_ ," Shavera reported, waving a hand over her face. The lines of Andruil’s vallaslin faded from her skin, leaving it bare and free. "She was exiled from a clan known as Lavellan, who moved on from this area over ten years ago. That is all they would say on the topic to an outsider, before suggesting I move on."  
  
Disappointing, though it brought up several questions. Had she lived all on her own in the woods for over ten years? It did not seem like all that long of a time, but it was hard to judge formative years for mortals.  
  
As they continued on through the desert, the thought of it still troubled him. Ten years alone was still a great deal for one that rarely lived to see their fiftieth year. Clearly she had managed to survive, if not thrive in such dangerous lands on her own, though it was highly likely she was little more than a wild animal herself now.

Still, they they made their way quickly through the approach, and the terrain began to bloom once more, sands turning into sparse grass and then forestry, as they made their towards to the thick, untouched woods west of Orlais.  
  
"Will we be heading straight into the Tirashan, Fen'Harel?" Tareneth asked as they stopped at a crossroads to allow their mounts a moment’s rest and water.  
  
"We will not blunder about on potentially dangerous land until we know a little bit more about what we are dealing with. There is a human village up ahead and I would rather like to see what they know of this _Asha'banal_. Perhaps they will have more to say than the Dalish."  
  
Not much more, as it turned out. Disguising themselves once more as merchants, they made their way into a small but functional tavern with the pretense of refilling their water canteens.  
  
"A terrifying blood mage that controls the vicious beasts that stalk the forests!” The bartender warned them. “If you listen closely at night, you can hear the horrible sounds those creatures make. The templars tried to bring her in but anytime anyone set foot in the woods they never returned."

And this seemed to be accepted by much of the villagers. They kept their settlements and children far away from the forest edges.  
  
“Are you certain she was actually controlling the beasts?” Tareneth asked.    
  
"It appeared that way....though it was hard to tell," Sa'renan admitted. “Though I might remind you I was dragging my partner through the woods while trying to dodge their sharp teeth, so _forgive me_ if I did not check to see if they were trained or not."

“They are merely lizard creatures. Not even dragons! I am surprised they gave you such trouble.”

“Enough,” Solas halted the conversation, seeing the agitation beginning to build between his agents. Perhaps the trek through the desert was more draining than he had anticipated. “I would remind you all that this woman and these creatures were responsible for at least one death of our people. Do not allow yourself be taken unawares by any creature, simple or otherwise.”   

They left their mounts in the village to make the rest of their way on foot. If she was as adept at controlling the wildlife as he suspected, it was best they not ride upon something that could turn against them, however ineffective it would be. And they would not be required once they made their return back through the eluvians.

*** 

The woods here were far thicker and wilder than the last time he visited these lands, and Solas could not help but marvel that they remained untouched by human hands after all these years. It was of only a few places yet remaining in the modern age that remained as such. It was tempting to let his mind wander to the memories he might find here, and of spirits that may still yet linger in the deepest part of the woods.

It had been several ages since he’d last come here. When he was merely Solas, a soldier of no great regard in Mythal’s service, and it was not a temple to a false god's glory, but an establishment dedicated to research. It brought to mind other memories as well, of bright eyes and soft skin. Memories best left long forgotten. Yet being among such familiar surroundings betrayed his efforts, as images of night time walks in opulent gardens, stealing away moments together behind gigantic trees woven together with magic.  

Old wounds still burned at the thoughts, despite the years passage and Solas clenched his fist tight enough that the points of his gauntlets cut uncomfortably into his skin. It would not do well for him to lose his focus in a place like this, where he had already lost one of his men.

As they traveled deeper into the wilds, their visibility began to grow impaired. They kept several magelights up at all times, and though he would have preferred not to highlight their exact position if someone was watching, there was little to be done about it at this time.  

He directed the others to scout ahead, and to pay careful attention to wards and other more primitive traps that the Dalish witch was known to utilize. The unfortunate demise of his agent Sethalin had involved a a trap that set forth half a dozen tiny darts into his body that had been carelessly triggered; all laced with a lethal wyvern poison that had killed him within seconds of it entering his bloodstream.

Sa'renan proved useful in assisting with spotting several of the traps they had blundered into previously. They began the process of disabling them safely, though it slowed their progress a great deal. The woods here were far more humid than he had anticipated, and the sweat that began to form underneath his chainmail was becoming uncomfortable. They worked for hours, though it was difficult to tell exactly what time of day it was, due to the thickness of the treetops. It seemed as dark now as it did when night had fallen hours ago.

Their presence had not gone unnoticed after several hours of exhausting, slow work that taxed their physical bodies and their mana. A flash of magic caught his eye, before a glyph formed under Shavera’s feet. A cloud of smoke flared from his eyes as he turned; but roots erupted from the ground to prevent him from giving chase. By the time he stamped them out, the witch had already disappeared beyond the thickly wooded trees without him catching so much as a glimpse of her.

So she was quick enough to outrun him. Surprising, but not entirely unexpected. She could not remain undetected for long, and it only served to highlight their need to reach the temple and activate its magic.

Solas turned back to the agent that was caught unawares. She was immobile. A paralysis rune then; a simple enough magic for him to dispel. He was rather unimpressed with the trap of her choice. Even a templar could break through it. An elf with knowledge of the ancient ways could do so in their sleep, even if their body could not move.

Solas felt Shavera begin to unravel the spell, and there was only a split second where he realized something was amiss before the rune exploded with violent force.

He staggered back; ears ringing as he struggled to regain his balance. A wetness dripped down the side of his face which he wiped with the back of his gauntlet.

The area where Shavera had been caught was now no more than a smoking crater; bits of blood and matter now strewn about the ground.  

Sa'renan and Tareneth stared blankly at the spot, stunned into silence.

"How?" Sa'renan asked finally.

Solas bent down to study the still lingering remnants of the ward. He studied the runes, and the nature of the magic that bound its construction. His frown deepened as understanding dawned.  

"I had not thought to see such magic again in this age. You recall the use of these runes? They were used frequently during the great wars among our People to prevent the conscripted slaves from fleeing the battle. The ward would catch the slave, and if they used magic to escape it would...well as you can see."

"I remember such wards," Sa’renan murmured, a tremble running through his voice. "How does a Dalish shemlen know of such magic?"

"We are getting more and more questions about this witch that require explanation. We will need to capture her before we neutralize her, if we are to find the answers." He wiped a splatter of blood from his face, staring darkly at the red spot that was once an elf.

An unexpected development, with implications that were...concerning.

“Are we so sure she _is_ Dalish? I find it hard to believe one could handle such magics. Perhaps it is one of Ghilan’nain’s former priests, driven mad over the years,” Tareneth suggested.

“No.” Solas said sharply. “The aura of the magic residue does not match one of our people. She _is_ Dalish, of that I am certain. Let us move on, and keep your barriers up at all times. She had to get close to cast the spell, so she may get careless and attempt to do so again.”

He straightened up, folding his arms behind him.

“And if you stumble into one of these runes, you will simply have to wait for it to fade on its own,” he added.

They moved on again, the mood far more somber than before as they travelled through the woods with one less member of their party.

A vicious snarling could be heard from just up ahead, and Solas halted, readying his remaining two agents. A pack of half a dozen dracolisks emerged from the woods ahead, zeroing in directly on their party.

"Sa'renan. I believe these are the lizard creatures that harassed you earlier?" Solas asked calmly.

"Err, yes. It appears so.."

A spark of magic from his eyes flashed, and the six creatures turned to stone.

"They will not bother us further. Come, the temple lies ahead.”


	3. Temple

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Dalish witch leads Solas and his agents through a merry chase in the Forest. Solas is less than pleased.

Now that the witch was fully aware of their presence it seemed she was setting anything against them that may prove to be a threat.

It began with several roaming packs of dracolisks. Distasteful creatures that he had never been fond of. The Inquisition briefly made use of them until one nearly bit the Inquisitor’s ring finger right off, and would have severed it completely if the First Enchanter had not been nearby with a healing spell on hand.

He had made an exception for that particular dracolisk, until it had been killed for daring to injure a self proclaimed demigod.

And here in these forests, there were plenty of them, though they were loud, noisy creatures and easy enough for them to spot. They turned to stone through a much less permanent version of the spell he had last used on the Viddasala and her cohorts. Partly to conserve his mana resources, but mostly due to the fact he had no desire to lay waste to the wildlife; particularly those that were not acting of their own accord. Once they completed their objective, the spell would wear off on its own and they would be no worse for wear.

When it became evident that they were making a straight path towards the temple, they were beset by larger and far more dangerous creatures. Wild boars, aggressive bears and jungle cats that nearly took them unawares, but he was able to dispatch them as readily as the others.

Then came the wyverns.

The ancient magic he had taken from Mythal was vast, but not limitless. He had expended a great deal of mana already, and these creatures were larger, and quicker. They shrugged off several of his agent’s spells; and one nearly took a bite out of his leg until Sa’renan came crashing down on it with their sword, knocking it astray. Inefficient, but it provided him the opening he needed. He cast his spell, and the wyvern let out one final croak before it turned to stone.

Solas panted, wiping the sweat that ran down the side of his face. His fingers twitched and he felt far more drained than he would have thought from such an encounter. Despite this, his ire was beginning to rise at the constant besiegement by forest animals. He would not be waylaid by these simple forest creatures.

A rustling sound from the undergrowth beside him caught his attention, and he cast his magic out instantly. A tiny, stone nug fell out from the foliage, earning a nervous chuckle from the agents before they caught sight of his severe expression and cut it short.

As they continued on, the animal attacks lessened considerably. He supposed that the witch was seeing their ineffectiveness. It was fortunate for them; he could not turn every creature in the forest into stone, temporary or no. They could set their attention back on clearing the myriad of traps that still lay in wait in the area. Progress continued, though it was slower than he would have liked.

They made their way into a large clearing in the forest that gave him pause. Here the trees parted to allow beams of sunlight to filter through, and Solas realized it had taken them all night and a good portion of the day to only make it this far.

A statue of Ghilan'nain lay in the clearing. It appeared to have been damaged at the base; from the looks it had been blown clear from the main temple in some sort of battle. Odd, as he could not recall a time that Ghilan'nain's temple had been attacked in the past, at least to this extreme. This must have occurred after he entered Uthenera.

It was clear that this was a very important spot for the Dalish that lived here. A shrine of sorts had been set up; candles made from animal fat still burned and indicated she had been here merely hours before. Offerings of beads and food had been left by the base. Not unusual findings among Dalish practice, though he noted that among the center of the offerings was a single sprig of what was known now as Prophet’s Laurel. In his time it was called _sunath'an ranash._

A seemingly innocuous offering but…

It had been a favored herb of Ghilna’nain, and one that grew aplenty in her massive gardens and manors. Finding this simple plant left as an offering, rather than the Dalish tradition of leaving halla horns was another piece of knowledge she should not be privy to.

It was clear she was a fanatic of some kind; this level of worship went far beyond the practices he’d observed by the Dalish. Their “halla mother” was generally invoked in protection of their precious halla herds but in many cases was a minor god in their pantheon. He wondered if this behavior had led to her being cast out of her clan.

Trust the Dalish to kick out a single individual that possessed the knowledge that they claimed to crave, simply because it did not fit neatly into their existing worldview.

This shrine however, spoke to a far greater purpose, and she clearly had come across something in the temple that fed this obsession. The fact she was able to enter however, was concerning. Each of the Evanuris' former temples still stood; though he had made an effort to reach out to as many of the sentinels that would still listen to the Dread Wolf. Some had proven to retain loyalties to the would-be gods that enslaved them, so to his great regret he had been forced dispatch them.

Yet he had heard nothing of Ghilan’nain’s people. Even were they to perish, the magic still lingering in the temples would have prevented any one mage from entering. It would take an entire circle of magi all channeling at once to focus the energy needed to breach the temple doors.

Or an ancient Tevinter Magister, Solas reminded himself. Thankfully he was dealing with neither of those today.

He stared at the statue, and the offerings left around it. It was not a Dalish depiction; this was carved by her servants that had known her. The features were eroded by years and weather, but the elegant slope of the nose and the curve of cheek were far too familiar and brought back an unwanted tightening in his chest as he stared at the serene expression carved on her face.

An expression he had seen often; one that hadn’t changed when she had moved on to performing her experiments on spirits, then on elves.

Fist clenched, he threw his arm up and called a lightning spell that struck the statue square on the head. It shattered and crumbled; bits of stone flying in several directions. Tareneth and Sa’renan exchanged a glance, but remained silent.

“We will proceed forward,” Solas ordered, a bit more snap in his tone than he intended.

His mood had suffered seeing the Dalish still leaving offerings to the woman that would have twisted their form and nature without a second thought. He became careless; twice he wandered into traps that would have killed a lesser person. It forced him to use a significant portion of his mana to purge the poison from darts that landed in the spaces between his armor. It was a tedious task that required him to manually leech the poison out through his skin, a procedure that was quite painful and served to darken his mood further.  

While he was distracted with this task, a flash of light caught his attention. A glyph had lit up under Tareneth’s feet, of the same type that had ended Shavera. He leapt to his feet with a vulgar curse; she was close, and would not escape him so easily this time.

A flash of brown skin and dark hair lurking in the trees was all he could see through the thickness of the foliage. Tempting to turn her to stone as he had the others; but not advisable. He needed to question her, and there was a risk her form would fall and become damaged. He opted for a spell of a different sort and cast his magic out. Ice formed at her feet and quickly traveled upwards; encasing her up to her neck.

It worked, for a fraction of a moment at least, and he was gratified to hear a muffled cry from the woman in the tree. A wave of flames washed over his prison of ice and melted it. Had he been at full strength, she would not have been able to do so. She jumped from the trees, and disappeared ahead of them.

“Enough of this,” Solas snarled, weary of this chase. He had little inclination to keep hunting her all across the forest in her own element. If she insisted on acting as an animal, he would treat her as such. He would herd her into capture, if he needed.

He raised his hands, summoning a great deal of mana from the deep well of power within him. He would perhaps regret using so much later on, but for now he cared little other than ending this frivolous chase. A barrier spell burst forth, though on a much grander scale than the ones he provided in battle in the Inquisition. It created a physical barrier on either side of him; preventing any person or animal from travelling anywhere other than the single path that it created within; a path that led directly to the temple. She would have nowhere to run but inside, and become cornered within.

He turned towards Tareneth, who stood helpless in the rune’s magic.  

“I would advise against using any magic at this time. We will move forward and capture the eluvian here. I suggest you join us through that when the spell wears off. Sa’renan, let us keep moving.”

Sa’renan said nothing as they continued, perhaps noticing the foul look on his face as they pressed onward.

The temple lay ahead. It was in a sorry state. A great battle must have occurred here, as there were blast marks all over the building. Marks he recognized as old elven magic. Had they fought against the Dalish witch that now claimed this temple? Surely she could not have bested them all.

A small, makeshift construction near the temple caught his attention. It appeared to contain several halla penned inside. Their presence was not unusual in and of itself, but their nature gave him pause. They were pretty, elegant, and _gold._ Not merely due to abnormality in their coloring, but glittering gold from their pelts to their shining horns. They were larger than most halla he had seen upon waking; with longer, more elegant looking limbs.

They brayed when the two of them approached, running up to the pair and pressing their heads against their pen. Solas reached out, finding one halla pressing its face into his palm, seeking attention.

It was not possible. These were...constructed through magical means.

But they were not made to fight. These creatures were docile. Friendly and affectionate, even. What had been their purpose in creating them?

Furthermore, how had a Dalish fanatic managed to perform such a feat? This was magic far, far beyond the means of any average elf, ancient or otherwise.

“Fen’Harel?” Sa’renan asked. Their tone carried a note of warning. Turning, Solas realized they were being joined by yet another creature.

The ground shook as a creature approached them; one he had not seen for some time. A varterral. It shuffled nearer on its long, spindly legs.

Another creation of Ghilan’nain. He had seen hundreds used in battle against his forces. They were a deadly force to the untrained.

This one however, did not seem overly concerned by them. It stomped past them, not finding them a hostile force. He took a moment to study it as it passed. This was not the battle version he had faced ages ago. This was one of the earliest prototypes. Made not to attack elves.

More and more curious.

The temple loomed over him. It was in a much poorer state than the Temple of Mythal; with much of the walls damaged and crumbling from what appeared to be force damage. He closed the doors and sealed it with magic. Not as strong as he would have liked, due to his expenditure of power from earlier. But enough to keep her trapped.

It had been some time since he last was here, and things had changed a great deal. He bypassed several of the rituals that were required to travel deeper into the temple. Rituals, he noted, that had been performed recently.

There were signs of death here. Markings in the dust that spoke of bodies being left and moved; bones and blood stains soaked into the marble. Yet no bodies. The implications of this was unsettling.    

There are more traps as well, though he was expecting them in what must be her final stand. Sa’renan and he work methodically through the temple, pushing the witch further and further into the temple.

There was one room that was different from the others. The ground here had been boarded up as efficiently possible with limited materials of stone and wood, but it was the massive overlay of every warding spell imaginable that caught his attention. The magic signature was the same as the warding spells that had incapacitated his agents, so this was her work.

His curiosity was stronger than the fear of whatever lay underneath these wards. Laying in a counter spell, he disabled them one by one.  

“Whatever it was, she didn’t want it getting out,” Sa’renan observed, their eyes wide.

“Stand ready, in case whatever was beneath this many wards proves to be hostile,” Solas warned as he dispelled the last of them. A small burst of force magic lifted some of the debris out of the way, revealing a deep pit underneath. No, a tunnel, that extended deep under the temple. And at the bottom...

A moment passed as he processed what he was seeing. Several bodies littered the entrance of the tunnel, all appearing to be _darkspawn._ This was bad enough on its own, but what made him recoil back in horror was what was done to them. They had been twisted and changed; their forms altered into monstrous amalgams of darkspawn and beast.

Had this witch actually been as foolish as to experiment with creating _blighted_ creatures? A quiet rage settled over him and he actually had to take a deep breath to control the shaking of his body.

“What does it mean?” Sa’renan whispered.

“It means we absolutely cannot allow her to escape capture,” Solas responded curtly. He straightened up, expending another display of magic to reseal the entrance, and replace all wards as he found them. “This requires an explanation.”

They continued on, finally reaching the last rooms that she would be seeking refuge in. Solas nodded towards Sa’renan to stand guard in case she attempted to avoid capture.

“You are cornered,” He announced as he entered alone. They are in the grand dais, where Ghilan’nain would have made a personal appearance to visitors or pilgrims seeking her favor or offering their obecience. It is also where her priesthood would perform their duties by the Well of Creation, and where the eluvian would be located.

And there she was. She seemed so small here; cornered at the edge of the room. He eyes swept over the woman that had forced him to make a personal visit and cost him two of his agents. She was younger than he expected, appearing to him to be at least of two decades of age, though such things were difficult for him to determine. Loosely braided black hair covered much of her face, though it didn’t hide the amber eyes that glowed at him with unbridled fury, nor her scowl.

She shifted back, watching him warily as he took one step forward. As she moved he noticed the markings on her face. At first he thought it was simply Dalish Vallaslin, though closer inspection showed it to not be blood writing, but scarring. It was in a specific pattern that resembled brands of Ghilan’ain. Blue ink had been filled into the scars.

He glanced towards the well. It was empty.

Ah. Of course.

She drank from it. The sum knowledge of all of Ghilan’nain’s high priests, who were known for their unethical experimentation. Handling unruly slaves, and the runes necessary to corral them. And yet none of their creations were anything other than raving beasts. The process of binding spirits of the unwilling did not make for a docile creature. And the domain of constructing truly remarkable beasts, such as the varterral and halla were purely in Ghilan’nain’s domain and such knowledge should not be available from the well.

This Dalish had created gentle creatures through some method still unknown to him, in addition to dabbling with the _blight._

And worse still, she had bound herself to the Evanuris she idolized to so dearly. Were the Veil to come down, she would be like a puppet to Ghilan’nain.

He would not allow that.

“Did you kill the inhabitants here?” He demanded.

She spat at him. It landed at the base of his feet, just short of the armored boots. He took a step back, looking back up at her with distaste.

Before he could respond, an explosion caught his attention. The ground rattled. Sa’renan came rushing in from the door’s entrance.

“Fen’Harel; the temple is under attack!”

“By whom?” Solas snarled, his rage snapping back to its boiling point.

“Ah...it appears to be by Inquisition forces. They are attempting to breach the spells on the temple door”

 _"Delltash!"_ Solas cursed. The Inquisition had a vast number of Templar forces; it was very possible that they would be able to do so.

At the moment though, all he could think of was how they had caught wind of his location. Either his glamour had been seen through, or he had someone inside his network feeding her information. A thought that troubled him greatly.

There was also the matter of his Tareneth. He would have been beset by the Inquisition easily. In all likelihood the agent was dead; when they attempted to free him from the glyph he would have died as gruesomely as Shavera. Unless he had convinced them not to.

Solas did not like unknowns. And he liked captured agents even less. The matter would have to be resolved before they went back into the Eluvian.

He turned back towards the Dalish witch, and paused. Her yellow eyes burned into him; still furious and intense but now with an added layer of something he had seen quite often in the past.

She was frightened.

Sa’renan had called him...oh.

 _“Fen’Harel_ …” she whispered, taking a step back until her back hit the wall.

“Ah, so you _can_ communicate beyond hurling spittle at someone. Excellent. Then you will understand me when I tell you I will need you to leave this forest with me.”

Her eyes widened. 

“I will _not_ be taken by the Dread Wolf,” She hissed in perfect elvhen. He sighed heavily, deep and suffering.

“An understandable point of view, but one I can not oblige at this time. Your sanctuary has been invaded and you have no alternative. I offer you a chance to escape and live another day. Will you come willingly?"

Another explosion sounded in the distance, nearer this time. A monstrous wailing sound reached their ears; of what sounded like the death throes of a mortally wounded Varterral.

 _“Adahl’fa!”_ The witch cried, running towards the room’s exit. Solas intercepted by reaching for her arm.

“Your creature is dead. And there are likely a great number of templars out near the front of the temple that will smite you without a second thought. There is another escape route in this temple that can be used to bypass them.”

She turned back towards him, nearly whipping him in the face with her braid. She looked at him a moment, wincing as another mournful death cry rang through the temple.

“I will follow you. For now.”

She set her jaw to look up at him square in the eyes, and despite the situation he had to marvel a Dalish that could stare so defiantly at their monstrous Fen’Harel.

Not what he had expected in the slightest.


	4. Templars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Solas now must deal with a slippery witch and Inquisition forces now storming the Tirashan.

The sense of urgency hung in the room like a weight. Though their enemies had yet to breach the temple, their efforts were sending shockwaves through the ancient foundations that rattled at their feet. Its magic was strong, but it could not withstand such force indefinitely.

Solas folded his arms behind him, straightening his posture as he turned towards his agent.

“I will need you to stay with the eluvian while I attempt to retrieve Tareneth. You know that I cannot allow it to fall into Inquisition hands, even if it were rendered inactive.”

“Of course,” Sa’renan agreed instantly.

“Good. If I do not return before they breach the doors, then you have permission to escape through it. But you must ensure its destruction on this side after entering.”

“How will you return?”

“The same route we took here, more than likely.”

Solas hoped it would not come to that. Every eluvian was precious, and the thought of destroying one by his own hand was unacceptable. But, far better than allowing the Inquisitor to get her hand on it. They would not be able to activate it without the password, but there were still old magics that her arcanist would pick up on and find a use for.

Seizing the ornate handles on the doors to the room, he slammed them shut and began to bind them with every ward and enchantment he knew. His liberal use of his mana from earlier, as well as his underestimation of the resistance he had faced here was something he now felt more keenly than ever. How arrogant he had been. He should have accounted for a breach in security; what better place to strike than alone, away from his stronghold?

But he had thought it to be a simple matter of retrieving a troublesome Dalish hedge mage and no more.

The witch herself shifted her weight between feet in a manner that was clearly agitated. Her gaze practically burned into him from behind. The question now; what exactly to do with her? Leave her with Sa’renan? It would allow him to work more efficiently while backtracking to Tareneth, but he had doubts as to letting her out of his sight. And he had perhaps underestimated her skills enough for this day.

It would be more trouble, but he would need to take her with him.   

“Let us proceed,” he ordered, turning on his heel to face her. She watched him warily, stepping back as he stepped forward. Solas eyed her with a cool indifference.

“You said you would follow me for now. Was that in error?”

Her eyes narrowed to slits, and she looked as if she would very much like to spit on him again.

“Show me how to get out of this temple,” she said quietly. Good. So she was capable of some form of cooperation.

“We have little time if we are to make it back before they breach my wards. Let us move with haste.” He strode over to the walls; past the empty Well of Creation. A sight that left him with a measure of unease, as it was a reminder that she possessed knowledge that was unknown even to him.

A vast mosaic of Ghilan’nain adorned the main wall by the throne, with golden panels that overlaid the abstract design. It glittered in the dim light of the few floating mage lights that hung in the room.

The stylized form of Ghilan’nain stared back serenely at him. This had been the original; a design of his own making, and one that he installed here in this temple so long ago, in a different world. When he was a foolish young man with idealistic fantasies.

The artwork here had been so admired that a similar piece was copied in Andruil’s holdings, though not by his own hand. Nor with his permission. And so on to the other elves that went on to proclaim themselves Gods; an effort no doubt to establish a united theme across their false divinity.

His mouth twisted. His stolen artwork and its later use in their propaganda was of little consequence in regards to their larger crimes against the People.  

He tapped the panels on the mosaic that triggered the spell that lay dormant. A ripple flowed over the wall before the panels on the mosaic began rearranging themselves in sections. Slowly at first; then increasing in speed until a walkway began to reveal in the hidden depths within.

The witch made a tiny, startled sound behind him when he activated the veilfire torch that lay just inside.

“After you,” he said shortly, motioning for her to walk ahead.

They moved quickly through the passageway; the only sound being that of his armored boots clicking against the marble ground. He watched her carefully the entire time, knowing she was likely biding her time to find a moment of weakness in his attention to try something. Now that he could keep a closer watch on her, her ancient magics were a bit less threatening.

His power reserves were waning, but he took the effort to discretely cast a spell that would allow him to link her mage’s aura with his own. She would have to draw her mana through the Veil before she could cast, which would react with his own and alert him to any sort of deception on her end.  

 

They emerged a good distance from the temple walls; the passageway depositing them where the old gardens used to bloom. Now, of course, it was simply a mess of overgrown forest as much as the rest of this area. A pity. They had been quite beautiful.

"Can you release my agent from your magic when we locate him?" Solas asked, though he already knew her answer. She simply shook her head, avoiding his attempt at catching eye contact.

"Did you learn such magic after drinking from the Well of Creation?" he tried again. She ducked under a branch; making no indication she had heard his words.

Well then. He had no interest in idle chatter right now as it was. She would reveal her secrets to him in due time when she was escorted back to his base.

Silence hung between them; as tense as it was welcome. As they moved he kept a close eye on her to watch for any sign of treachery. Her body language was tense and rigid, though he supposed being captured by the man her people had demonized was in part due to that. Still, she moved nimbly through the trees and he suspected she knew every inch of the terrain here.

A surge of mana rushed through him, alerting him to her spell a moment before she cast it. That split second was all he needed to form his countermeasure; the glyph that lit up at his feet flickered and stuttered a few times before fading.

“A waste of mana,” he chastised. He had been prepared for such a reaction; adrenaline rushing through his veins as he watched her with a careful intensity. She had adopted a stance that brought her body closer to the ground, though he noticed her knees were shaking. She was terrified of him, yet she still thought to oppose him.

Admirable, if inconvenient.

She attempted to strike him with her dagger. The blow glanced off of his barrier easily, allowing him to grab her wrist in a vice like grip.  

“I had thought you to come willingly. Is that no longer the case?”

 _“Ar tu na'lin emma mi, harellan.”_ she spat.

“Your Dalish superstitions will get you killed, _shemlen_ ,” Solas snapped, gripping her wrist so tightly her dagger fell from her hand with a pained sound. “Do you think you can take on the Templar forces that are soon to be swarming this area?”

“I have fought them and lived before.” She struggled against his grip, but he merely tightened his hold.

“You fought a few foolhardy recruits that thought to bring in the hedge witch living in the woods. The breed of templar in this forest now is a battle seasoned force that has been designed to shut down lone mages like yourself.”

“Better than walking into the clutches of the Great Betrayer himself. I have heard the stories of the Dread Wolf stealing Dalish virgins from their clans. _I will not be taken._ ”

Ah, yes. _Those_ vile stories. He had heard of their telling during his deep slumber. Void take her, and the blighted Dalish for the slavish beast they made him out to be.

“You drank from the well of Creation; _you_ of all Dalish should understand just how much your people got wrong,” he responded brusquely. “Would it surprise you so greatly that they mangled the tales of the fearsome Dread Wolf, as well?”

A small grunt was all she responded with as she continued to glower at him behind her braids.

“It matters not. I have little interest in playing out those repulsive stories your people tell of me. The more pressing issue is retrieving my agent.”

She lunged at him. He let out a huff of air in disappointment; had she not just seen how ineffectual her last strike had been?

But she surprised him. Taking hold of his pelt, she launched her small form upwards, nearly toppling the two of them over. He staggered slightly before catching his balance. The Dalish was nimble and managed to perch herself precariously above him, her face hovering inches from his.

“What do you-”

A small crackle of magic sparked against his flesh as she cast something, and then she _bit through_ his barrier, her teeth connecting with the soft skin  of his cheek.

A burst of pain, and a warmth trickling down the side of his neck. The force and shock of it knocks them both over. Her teeth are bared in a snarl, his blood dripping from the corners of her lips.

She held his gaze finally; eyes feral and gleaming with triumph. When he attempted to get himself upright, a push of force magic shoved him back down with a muttered curse. When he managed to scramble to his feet, she had already disappeared back into the wilderness.

Solas touched the bite mark on his face. The pain was stronger than he had thought such a bite to be, even as a rush of healing magic soothed the wound. He supposed he should have expected no less from a woman that lived as an animal out here in these woods. Her dagger glinted in the sunlight on the ground, and he picked it up. Finely sharpened, with a bone handle that had been carved with a dancing halla motif. Interesting. She seemed to have a propensity towards crafting, though she had clearly moved on to more organic type of construction.

He exhaled sharply through his nose as he considered this unexpected development. He would need to track her down again, but his need to find Tareneth was the more pressing issue. Though there was also the matter of the Templars roaming the area.

 

He retread his steps back to where his agent was left behind. Much to his surprise the glyph, and agent were left intact still. A single Templar stood guard nearby. Turning them to stone would be the most efficient method but he had a need to conserve as much mana as possible if matters go out of hand. He had already used more of his reserves than he was comfortable with.  

A simpler, though messier approach was just as effective. He approached from the back; the Templar remaining unaware of his presence. He more than likely thought that his comrades were engaging the main forces still in the temple. He would only have a moment before the man noticed him however, and he took the opportunity without hesitation; grabbing the back of the man’s head and tilting it to reveal the small gap of his helmet that revealed smooth skin. A startled shout was all he managed to get out before the dagger sank deep. It penetrated through soft flesh and out the other end, severing the Templar’s spinal column  and preventing him from crying out in one swift motion. By the time he withdrew the weapon, the man was dead.

The body slumped to the ground in a heap. Blood ran down the dagger’s hilt and blade in rivulets, staining the intricately carved halla in red. His brow furrowed, and he wiped the blade and hilt clean on the Templar’s robes quickly as he turned to address his captured agent.

Tareneth stared at him, hunched with red ringed around their eyes as Solas bent his knee to bring his eye level with the other elf.

“Fen’Harel? Then you have seen the Inquisition forces going into the Temple?”

“Indeed.” He tilted his head. “You manage to convince them not to attempt dispelling the rune?”  

“A few in their number ran across a couple of active ones,” Tareneth let out a huff of air, his eyes glancing towards the dead templar. “I overheard a bit before they moved on to the temple. The forces currently in the Tirashan is a smaller force that was sent ahead to try and head you off in time. The Inquisitor, and the main Templar forces, are en route as we speak. It seemed they had been tipped off by a last minute report after we had already departed.”

“Thank you, Tareneth. That information will prove useful. You have performed well.”

“I take it I am to remain here, then?”

Solas pulled his mouth into a tight line.  

“I regret to inform you that the witch cannot dispel the magic. And...I lack the time to sufficiently wait for the rune to fade through normal means, if the main forces are en route as you say.”

His agent swallowed and looked back up to meet his steely gaze. “I understand. I die in service to the restoration of the People.”

“Your name will not be forgotten in the new world. We will remember your sacrifice, _lethallin.”_

He stood and stepped away from the rune to create some distance. Tareneth trembled but held his gaze as the magic holding him began to unwind. The explosion that resulted killed him instantly, and without pain.  

His fingers unclenched themselves, leaving little marks on the inside of his gauntlets. The muscles in his jaw twitched slightly, but he quickly schooled it back to its former, stony expression.

Now to ensure that Dalish did not escape his clutches again. He would be sure to keep her this time.

 

He had an idea as to where she would have headed. She had been unusually concerned with the creatures being attacked by Inquisition forces, which led him right back to front of the temple, where the pen of golden halla had been kept.

His guess had been correct. At least one thing would go according to plan.

She was engaged in combat, having placed herself between two of the golden animals and a small force of Templar soldiers. There had been three golden halla, he recalled; the other was clearly missing. Blood dripped down her arm in rivulets; with one templar already slain on the ground at an awkward angle; hemorrhaging blood. Four other Templars gathered, shields and swords at the ready.

Solas picked up the dead Templar's sword. At the sight of him, the others hesitated and murmured among themselves. They had likely been instructed to kill him on sight, he supposed, though now they faced two mages of uncertain power.

Two of them had their helmets removed; with blood pouring from their nose and mouth. Yet they did not show any signs of backing down, and Solas could not help but marvel at their focus in battle even in the face of such pain. They had been trained well.

The witch held one in place through sheer force of blood and will; the Templar choking they bled from their eyes. While her attention was held on that individual, Solas noted another Templar approaching from the side. A rune had been placed here, likely set to explode on contact. This enemy however was not some inexperienced recruit, and disabled it quite readily with their templar training. Their sword arm raised high, attempting to strike her.  

Solas barely got a barrier up in time to absorb the blow. She turned, eyes wide to catch sight of him as he launched himself into the fray. It had been some time since he turned to swordsmanship, but his skills were more than adequate, even as his old bones protested the movement slightly. He parried a few blows before finding an opening in their stance and struck; sliding the blade neatly through their kidney.

“Do not just stand there. I will cover you from the back. If you plan to cast something, now is the time!”

She blinked but heeded his words. They fell into an easy rhythm; he protected her flank as the remaining templars closed in, giving her the freedom to ready her spells. He could tell by her unsure movements that this was not her preferred fighting style. She likely tended to stick to hiding in the thick trees of the forest, casting spells from afar. Catching her up close was her real weakness. A thought he filed away for later use, should it be one he needed to exploit.

For now he needed her alive.

Solas felt the air around him heat up; if he had any hair on his head he was sure it would have been singed off. The smell of burning flesh invaded his nostrils as another Templar fell to the ground in a smoking heap.

That left two of them. One was proving to be quite troublesome; matching him move for move. And the witch’s magic was becoming sloppy in her panic; the last several spells she cast all missed their target by a wide margin. There was a desperation in his movements however, and Solas knew he would be able to break him down as long as the other didn’t get close enough to use-

The telltale crackle of a holy smite spell being readied caught his ear, and he snarled in frustration, kicking the templar in front of him squarely in their breastplate. He pushed the witch down, taking the blow in her place.

He had never taken such a spell up close like this. It was..unpleasant. His body burned, his teeth rattled and he could already feel his mana bubbling inside him; reacting to having no outlet with his connection to the Fade being temporarily cut off. Unfortunately for the Templar; the Dread Wolf had other sources of power than drawing from the Fade.

His eyes glowed as he called on Mythal’s power; summoning a small burst of ice that formed directly in the center of the smiting templar’s chest. The Templar stopped in his tracks, gasping as the piece of ice gripped him from within and continued growing. The last man remaining paused, shaking when spikes of ice erupted from his comrade’s chest; shearing cleanly through bone and flesh with a grotesque sound.

“Solas!”

A familiar voice called out from behind, tinged with shock and anger. Solas closed his eyes at the sound of it. He could feel the witch behind him tense; ready to dart. He reached out to grasp her forearm, keeping her in his reach. The remaining templar retreated; taking a spot next to the woman Solas had once thought to admire.

“Seeker,” he greeted, turning to face her. “I had wondered if I would find you here.”

Her face was as stony as his; mouth set in a grim line as she looked at him with a hard gaze. Dark circles ran under her eyes.

“So you _are_ here! I could not-” Cassandra shook her head. “Why are you doing this?” She asked finally.

Solas opened his mouth to speak.

“Where is Enasta!” The witch interjected, shaking.

Cassandra looked at the witch as if seeing her for the first time.

“Enasta? I do not understand that word.”    

“The halla. He’s missing. You will tell me where he is!”

Her eyes narrowed. “The golden animal is yours?”

“He belongs to no one!” She barks, her voice shrill in her rage.

Cassandra looked back at him, clearly at a loss. “Who is this elf, Solas?”

“She is…” Solas paused. “An oddity. I care not for her animal however. May I assume that you plan to stand in my way?”

The witch made a frustrated cry and attempted to wrestle free from his grasp. He held his grip firmly, despite her anguished sounds.  

“You assume correctly. Now answer my question Solas; What is in this temple that brought you here?”

 _And why are you trying to destroy our world, after helping us save it?_ He could see the question burning on her tongue, remaining unspoken.

He was not surprised at her reaction. It must have come as an unexpected betrayal. He had always gotten along with the Seeker and enjoyed the few times they had been sharing company. The fact that she seemed so surprised at his actions was…

He wasn’t sure what it was. Gratifying, he supposed.

“I believe I made my purpose clear when I last spoke with the Inquisitor. If she has not shared my reasons with you, then you will need to ask her for further clarification. If you will excuse me-”

He turned, dragging a very agitated Dalish with him.

“Solas! Do not turn your back on me! I will fight you-”

“I would expect no less from you, Seeker.”

Smoke filled his vision as a rush of power flooded his veins. It was regretful that he would need to do this, but this was precisely what he had conserved his mana for. It would be over quick, at least. He reached out, preparing the spell that would turn Cassandra to stone.

 

But when he turned around, both the Seeker and the other Templar had been knocked asunder instead. Unconscious.  

Another familiar face stared back at him with dark, unblinking eyes underneath a wide hat.

“Cole.” he greets.

“I didn’t want to hurt her,” Cole whispered. “But you would have killed her if I didn’t,” he added, pulling on the brim of his hat.

“That is correct. You did help her,” Solas agreed. “Why are you here?”

“I was in the temple. Someone needed my help.”

“Sa’renan?” Solas raised an eyebrow.

“Yes. They were almost overtaken. Wanted to wait for you….no, I cannot disappoint him again! I must wait until the last moment. But they almost lost control until I helped. They went through the mirror.”

Solas let out a heavy exhale. It was as he expected; though he had hoped to make it back in time. He would be forced to make his way back without the aid of the eluvian. He stared at the witch, and at the two golden halla behind her.

“Cole, can you find us a path free of Templars out of the forest?”

“Yes, I can help!”

Well then, at least they wouldn’t have to leave on foot.

 

***

Translations:

_Ar tu na'lin emma mi, harellan: I will see your blood on my blade, traitor._


	5. Dalish

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Inquisitor approaches the temple, while Solas and the Witch find unexpected refuge in the desert.

The Elven temple was...unimpressive. While it was only the second one that Cornelia had seen in person and was clearly in a state of ruin, its size and grandeur was clearly inferior compared to the one they had wrested from Corypheus’s control. And with far more animal statues that she could only presume were Solas’ doing.

Blighted apostate. She should have left him to rot in the swamps of the Fallow Mire when she had the chance.

Her purebred mount knickered nervously at the bulk of a fallen creature she had never seen before, a mass of thick and spindly limbs that splayed on the ground in a grotesque fashion. She ignored it and slid off her mount with a flounce of curls, addressing the former Seeker that stood nearby.

Cassandra's dour face as she bowed ruined her already poor mood.

"You lost him," Cornelia observed in an icy tone. "How many of ours did he kill?"

"I-" Cassandra cut herself off with an angry huff. "Inquisitor, may I speak freely?"

"In order for me to hear your excuses? We came all this way for nothing."

Cassandra narrowed her eyes. "Still, I will speak my mind, Herald.

"You sent us after Solas knowing full well the power he wields. My forces held their own with minimal losses, while we wrested control of this temple before Solas could take the eluvian inside. I would say that is _not_ nothing."

"But you still lost him," Cornelia countered, straightening herself to look up at the other woman's steely gaze.

“I was….incapacitated.”

“By Solas? How in the Maker were you not just a statue like the rest of the forest, then?”

Cassandra pursed her lips.

“I am not certain. There...was a boy, I think. I cannot recall exactly.”

“A _boy?”_ Cornelia didn’t bother disguising the scorn in her voice. And still, as she said that, there was something familiar about the subject that bothered her.

“Yes, a boy.” Cassandra snapped her fingers. “That boy that you removed from the Inquisition came to his aid! Perhaps if you had not been so hasty in refusing his help, he would not have turned to Solas' side against us."

Oh yes, how could she have forgotten? The demon child was cast out the moment he made himself known to her.

Cornelia snorted. "I'm surprised to hear you of all people say that, Cassandra. He was a demon."

"Demon or no, he allowed Solas and his companion to slip from our grasp."

"His companion?"

"I do not have much more details than this. But it seems she was responsible for this...creature." She gestured to the fallen bulk.

"And this one?" Cornelia nodded towards a golden halla of exceptional grace that was being corralled by a few templars, it’s golden pelt glittering beautifully in the sunlight. It reared up on its legs, kicking futilely against the armored men.

"Hm. It is a pretty thing, is it not? Make sure it's sent to Divine Victoria as a gift from the Inquisition."

"I will see to it," Cassandra responded evenly. "What are your orders now?"

"Take your remaining Templars and go through the temple with a fine tooth comb. If there is anything there to be used I want to know. Dagna is on her way to assist, if need be." 

"We will do as you ask."

"I should hope so. Let us not forget that the world as we know it is at stake."

 

Cornelia turned on her heel with a swish of her robes, heading into the Temple itself. Dozens of Templars straightened from their magic sweeping and saluted her as she walked through the depths of the marbled hallways, only stopping when the eluvian towered over her. She had seen them active; she had used them and felt their magic thrum through her senses when stepping into the mirror.

But now it simply stood, inert and dull and only reflecting back her very weary scowl. She battled a few errant curls, tucking them into her braid before pulling out an elaborate crystal pendant and activated the rune on the back, fumbling with it only slightly in her one hand.

"Inquisitor. You have news for me?" The voice that emanated from the object was smooth and oddly accented.

"We have managed to take the temple with our forces."

"And Fen'Harel?"

"He escaped. Perhaps with more warning, I could have had time to move more forces here-"

"You were given as much warning as was possible. Fen'Harel eluding your grasp is disappointing, however. I had expected with a force of your magnitude..."

Cornelia bit the inside of her cheek.

"Unlike _you_ we still need to move our forces by foot and horse. We cut off his means for escape, at the very least, and captured his mirror. Is it possible for us to use it?"

"I presume he would have had it deactivated so it is useless to you shemlen. Still, his delay will be of some...benefit.” The elf on the other side chuckled darkly, sending a wave of unease to wash over her.

“To your own ends, or to mine?” Cornelia snapped.

“Inquisitor Trevelyan, _I_ have no desire to see this world come to an end. At the moment, our interests do coincide, so it is a mutual benefit to the both of us.”

“What happened with the animals here? Can you tell me that, at least?”

A long pause from the other side stretched, so long she had to double check to make sure her pendant hadn’t deactivated.

“Animals, you say?” The voice asked, dropping in pitch. An edge that wasn’t there before did not go unmissed by Cornelia’s ears.

“Yes, animals. Care to explain why your Dread Wolf had to turn half the forest’s wildlife into stone statues? And the ones that weren’t stone were...odd.”  

“How interesting. I will need to look into the matter. Now if you’ll excuse me, I do have some preparations to make before our problem wolf returns.”

The crystal dimmed before she could respond; only the heat generated by its activation still remaining in a steady pulse on her palm.  

“Knife-eared asshole.” she muttered quietly to herself, slipping the crystal inside her breastplate.

She stared at the eluvian for a long moment before turning on her heel to stalk back towards the entrance. Dagna had better find something of use in here.

 

* * *

 

It is only when the woods thinned out to plains, then to desert sands that Solas slows their escape.

When they stop, Cole appeared once more next to the Dalish woman, who made a startled sound at the sight of him, nearly falling off of the halla.

“They won’t ride through the desert. Sand in her boots, sun beating against her face and making everyone stare at the scar.”  

“Thank you Cole. Your help was very much appreciated.”

Cole cocked his head to the side, shadowed underneath the billowing hat on his head.

“She is alone and confused. But the Iron Lady will take good care of her. Try not to worry.”

When Solas looked back, the spirit was gone.  

The sun was already high in the sky, beating down upon them both. He fastened a cloth around his mouth to protect it from the sands. They would have a long journey through this region to reach Val Royeaux that would take a few days, if the desert sands did not slow their journey too much.

“Ride ahead of me,” he instructed. All it earned him was a grunt, but she did as he said. Where else would she ride to? Her home was overrun and there was nothing around them now but sand dunes as far as the eye could see.

“Dhru and Palla need to drink,” She announced, refusing to look him in the eye. Indeed, the two halla were panting heavily, tongues lolling out as they trudged through the sand.

“Of course,” Solas agreed, applying a light pressure on his mount’s sides to slow them. Pulling one of his pauldrons off, he cast a minor ice spell that melted quickly in the desert heat, filling it with cold liquid. The two creatures lapped it up quickly, so he summoned a few more pieces of ice before they were satisfied.

He did not expect any gratitude from the witch, and he did not receive any. With a snort she mounted again and rode on ahead.

Still, from the intensity of her stare when she looked back at him,  it was clear that cooperation was the furthest thing from her mind. He would watch her closely; there were too many secrets of what happened in that temple for him to allow her to escape his grasp.

_The Dread Wolf, holding people against their will. Perhaps the Dalish were not so wrong about you after all._

Shaking the troublesome thoughts from his mind, he planned his route instead. Using the safe house in Val Firmin was not advisable, as its location was likely compromised. No, better to be safe and find a route that would be unexpected to his enemies. There were a few eluvians set up in key locations in Val Royeaux; that would be his destination. They would be far less conspicuous in such a large city once he used his glamour.

The Dalish remained quiet. He made a few aborted attempts at conversation simply to gauge her, but she gave no indication of hearing him, so the ride continued in silence.  

The day passed excruciatingly slow, the heat, poor company and his mind ruminating on the breach in his security weighing heavily on him. When the sun dipped behind the horizon and the temperature began to drop, he motioned for the two of them to stop their progress for the evening.

She was hostile; precautions would need to be taken before he deemed it safe to sleep in her presence. He had little desire to wake to one of those exploding runes at his feet.

He lacked any rope or bindings of any sort, so he would need to make do with what was available. Tearing a strip of cloth from his robe, he wove a spell into the fabric that would make it as strong as steel. He approached her, ignoring her feral snarl when he grasped her arm. He could feel her mana as she pulled from the fade to attempt some sort of offensive spell against him; it was a simple matter to interrupt the flow, resulting in a small puff of smoke that burst harmlessly from her fingers.

She thrashed, kicking her leg out at him and striking him squarely in the side. With a pained grunt, he grabbed her leg when it lashed out again.

“Do not touch me!” She cried out before dissolving into hysterics as he bound her arms above her. He pulled her scarf from her neck to begin binding her feet together. His dried blood still ran down the side of her chin.

He remembered her earlier words, and those abhorrent stories told about Fen’Harel violating young Dalish women. An uneasy feeling churned in his gut as she looked down at him with eyes filled with terror.

“I apologize for the necessity, but I have little choice. You have my word that no harm will come to you so long as you cooperate.”

She barely appeared to hear him, babbling in elven and stirring up little whirls of sand that she began to choke on in her panic.

He sighed.

“Sleep,” he placed a hand on her forehead and cast the deepest sleep spell he could manage in his weakened state. Immediately her movements stilled as her body went limp from slumber.

He straightened, feeling his bones creak from the effort. With a sigh he dusted sand from his front. A futile action, as it had already worked its way into the nooks and crannies of his armor.

Ensuring his bindings were sufficient, he lay down on the hard sand. Not the most comfortable of beds, but he had slept in far worse conditions. He had need to contact his agents while in the fade, though he would need to be careful of who he reached out to.

Sa’renan was likely the only one he could trust now.

Closing his eyes, he could already feel the pull of the fade tugging at his consciousness as the weariness of the day's events began to wash over him.

* * *

But when his eyes opened again, he was not in an area of the fade he had anticipated. Nor was he alone. No longer was he in a wasteland of desert sands; now the fade had conjured a scene of lush gardens not unlike those of Ghilan’nain’s temple in its heyday. A golden halla grazed on the grass, its fur now shining so brightly it was nearly blinding.

He approached the creature, as it raised its head to gaze at him.

“You are the spirit that the witch bound to the halla,” He realized.

It stared at him for a moment, before lowering its head to take another bite of grass.

“I do not know how she constructed you, exactly. But I will free you from her bindings, if I am able.”

The halla looked back up at him again, fixing him with a pointed stare.

“ _No need,”_ it said, calm and melodious. “ _I entered this form willingly.”_

“Why would you consent to being her beast of burden? It is far more dangerous for you than existing in the fade.”

“ _I am no beast of burden. I am her friend, as she is mine. She cared for us and gave us bodies when we asked.”_

“You asked for this?”

Another baleful stare.

“ _There are spirits that whisper of the plans to reintegrate the waking and dreaming worlds together. I wonder, Dread Wolf, if you know anything of that, and the danger it poses for spirits of little strength, such as I?”_

“I-” He trailed off. “I am aware of that. An unfortunate side effect that I hope to minimize-”

“ _Fear and uncertainty are unpleasant. They are feelings that are alien to my nature. I do not want to be changed. You can see why we would take our chances in the waking world, in these bodies she has provided.”_

“You have every right to be wary. I do not wish to cause undue harm to any spirit.”

“ _I believe you. But you have a duty that is stronger than your wishes.”_

“I take no joy in what must happen. I am sorry, my friend.”  A silence stretched between them until Solas cleared his throat.

“Can you tell me anything about this Dalish woman?”

The halla pawed the grass and looked up at Solas.

_“We have become separated. I am now in the company of those you call Templars."_

“You are the one that was captured. You have my apologies.”

 _“It is of no consequence; I can still communicate with my brethren during slumber. Though I am sure my friend will miss my presence.”_ The halla paused. _“You should go retrieve her; I believe she has encountered some sort of danger.”_

 

* * *

 

 

He awoke with a start.

The cloth lay discarded in the sands with the Dalish, of course, nowhere to be found. Wiping his hand over his face he cursed and scanned the area. Both mounts were gone; of course she would have been loathe to leave one of her “friends” behind.

Fortunately for him, it would slow her down considerably.

And he was rejuvenated from his venture into the fade, however brief it may have been.

With no time wasted he slipped into his wolf form and began running as soon as his paws hit the ground. Unfortunately for her, the scent of his own blood carried over the harsh desert winds due east from his current location.

He ran, paws gliding over the sand with ease.

A new scent caught his nose; several scents indicating the presence of a large crowd. Slowing his gait, he approached the source from behind a large sand dune.

_Fenedhis_

The Dalish clan his agents and him had encountered earlier. They had her cornered between several of their hunters, who seemed particularly interested in the halla.

He would need to handle this carefully. Shedding his wolfish disguise, he returned to his elven form for a brief moment before casting a new glamour over himself. An elf, shorter of stature and with tightly cropped hair pulled back into a hunter’s knot. Mythal’s vallaslin in blue marking his face. His fingers tightened around his staff before he walked out from the dune.

“ _Aneth ara, lethallen.”_ he greeted. “I see you have helped corner my quarry.”

At once several bows turned towards him, arrows nocked.

“Who speaks?” One demanded, stepping forward.

“I am Tareneth, of Clan Lavellan.” 

“Clan Lavellan? They have not passed through here in years. Explain.”

“Our keeper had a premonition during dreaming that was worrisome. I was sent with a small group to investigate; as you can see I am the only one remaining.”

“You were with the woman that traveled through here a few days back,” the hunter observed.

A lie prepared itself on the tip of his tongue, before the Dalish he’d been chasing spoke.

“He lies! He is none other than the great Betrayer himself!” she called out to the crowd, her voice shrill and hoarse.

The hunters laughed among themselves at the terror in her voice.

“A rich story, from a blasphemer such as you.” The lead hunter spoke. He glanced over at Solas, looking him up and down.

She attempted to run, but the other hunters, mounted on their own halla cut off her escape. Perhaps she could have outmaneuvered them if she had only her own mount, but having to manage both animals made the attempt clumsy at best. Coming up behind her, the lead hunter struck a blow to the back of her head, knocking her from the creature.

“Thank you, _lethallin._ We could not allow this witch roam our sands freely. Her clan warned us she is quite dangerous.”

“Indeed,” Solas murmured, watching another hunter dismount and begin tying up the woman, while two others attempt to corral the spooked halla. Her protests and cursing became hysterical until a gag was tied over her mouth.

“You were with the woman that passed through her a few days earlier, then?”

Solas pauses  “Indeed.”

“You should have told us you were from Clan Lavellan. We always assist our sister Clan in need.”

“My apologies, our mission held a sense of….urgency that required us to move through the Western Approach with haste.”

Spitting into the sand, the hunter strapped his bow to his back before addressing Solas once more.

“What will you do with her now, Tareneth?”

“I will accompany her back to Clan Lavellan, where she will be turned over to the Keeper for judgement.”

The elves nodded, agreeing with this course of action.

“My name is Soren, Lead Hunter for Clan Sengalan. You are welcome to stay the night in our company, kin.”

Solas paused again, considering. This was unexpected, though beneficial to his plans. He could be assured at least, that the others would watch over the Dalish witch while he completed his task while in Dreaming.

He had not expected a Dalish clan to be so welcoming. Their issues with this woman ran deep, apparently. Fortunately for him.

“I accept your offer, Soren. Thank you for your hospitality.”

The Dalish witch glowered at him from behind her gag; eyes burning in what he could only guess was humiliation and hatred towards him, as they hauled her onto their own white pelted halla to lead back to their camp.

“I have never seen halla like this,” Soren remarked, stroking the golden fur. “How did she come across such a creature?”

“That is a matter we are attempting to determine, as well,” Solas responded. “However, I am finding it difficult to navigate with both animals. Perhaps we can keep one in your clan, for safe keeping.”

“ _Ma serannas;_ it is a beautiful animal. We would honor her during next month’s rites to Ghilan’nain. Now, let us return to camp with our guest that captured the _asha-banal!_ ”

“As you would,” Solas grunted, setting his mouth into a thin line.

The trip back to camp was a short one; The Dalish had taken refuge in a shaded oasis in tucked away in the desert; the aravels not a bright red that he was accustomed to, but a cream color that blended in beautifully with the sand that surrounded them. Despite the late hour, several elves emerged from their aravels to watch the approaching party; several moving about camp in a flurry.

“I hope you did not have plans to sleep too soon, _lethallin!”_ Soren exclaimed, slapping Solas on the back. “Bringing in the Witch of the Tirashan is a hunt worthy of celebration!

“I do not-”

“Light up the hearths and bring out the barrels of _halla-em_! We are celebrating the capture of _asha-banal_ this eve with an honored guest from our sister Clan!”

Loud raucous cheering and drumming began to fill the camp. Solas forced a smile to his face.

_Unexpected indeed._

* * *

Thank you everyone for your patience; I'm so sorry for the wait on this! I had some amazing artwork that I want to share for this fic;

an-amethyst-moon did [this lovely drawing](http://an-amethyst-moon.tumblr.com/post/147139732204/so-i-just-recently-read-destinyapostasys-a) of Ashanna fighting in the Tirashan! Check it out and follow her if you can <3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Ashanna! Maybe in the next chapter we'll learn a little more of why Clan Sengalan/Lavellan is so wary of her. :)

**Author's Note:**

> My first long fic! I hope it is enjoyable so far! 
> 
> I'm also tagging this as Dark!Solas in case it bothers anyone; he's going to be a lot colder and detached than I would normally write him due to the differences in world states and relationship with this AU's Inquisitor.


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